


A Winter's Tale

by neytah



Series: Fanfics I wrote at Summer Camp [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood, Dean is 14, Family Feels, Gen, Sam is 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytah/pseuds/neytah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While dad is out monster hunting, Sam and Dean spend a day in a motel room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winter's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> For Bridget.  
> I wrote this at camp, and the monster in this story, the Wereporky, is native to my camp. It doesn't have much to do with the story, but that's why there's a weird sounding monster.  
> Also sorry for any inaccuracies involving Shakespeare's A Winter's Tale. Let me know if you find any.

It’s a small town on the edge of a lake, China, Maine. I’d been several hours drive, Sam napping in the backseat for most of the way. They arrived at around two in the morning, checking into a motel, Sam still in a sleepy haze.

Dad doesn’t tell Dean much. He can tell it’s something Dad’s never seen before. He’s been up all night, scouring books. Dean knows it’s at a summer camp nearby; campers have been disappearing, no explanation.

But Dean doesn’t ask questions. He tucks Sam into bed and watches him until he falls asleep. Dean doesn’t get into bed until 3. When he does, his dad is still awake, toiling away under a reading light.

When dean wakes in the morning, Dad is already gone. Sam is still asleep, cocooned in blankets, snoring softly. Dean puts a few Poptarts in the microwave before going to the bathroom.

This bathroom is nicer than most motels'. They have nice glass cups for water by the sink, and little bottles of shampoo and conditioner. Dean pockets them quickly. He considers a wank before Sam wakes up, but the microwave beeps and Dean reluctantly leaves the bathroom.

The beeping has disturbed Sam’s slumber; he begins to squirm in his bedding, lifting his hands to rub his sleepy eyes.

Dean does a quick scan and doesn’t see any plates. He takes the hot Poptarts in his hand, moving them from hand to hand as he walks toward Sam.

“Good mornin, sleeping beauty,” Dean says, tossing a Poptart onto Sam’s lap, taking a bite out of his own. Dean sits down on the edge of the bed, and they eat in silence.

“Dad already gone?”

Dean nods.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“No.” He never knows.

Sam finishes his Poptart.

“Do you know where my bag is?”

“It’s over there.”

“Can you bring it to me?”

“Get it yourself.”

Sam falls silent. Dean finishes his Poptart.

“What do you want with it anyway?”

Sam pauses before answering.

“My book is in there.”

“What book?”

“ _A Winter’s Tale_. It’s by Shakespeare.”

“Shakespeare? How do you read that?!”

I like it. It’s about a king who thinks his wife cheated on him so he-”

“Yeah whatever. Do you want some water?” Deans says, heading back towards the bathroom.

“Okay.” Sam says. “Can you get my book too?”

“Fine.” Dean grabs the strap of Sam’s bag and flings it in Sam’s direction. It skids to a halt right next to Sam. He smiles.

“Thanks Dean.”

Dean goes to the bathroom and fills two cups with water. It has that subtle unpleasant taste that he often finds in motel tap water. He’s grown used to it by now, so he shrugs and exits to give Sam his water.

“Enjoying your nerdy book, Sammy?” Dean says as he place the water on the nightstand.

“It’s really sad. King Leontes imprisoned his wife but she-“

“Is it teaching you how to fight monsters?” This stung. The air was suddenly filled with tension.

“It’s a good book, Dean. It’s a cautionary tale about-”

“Whatever Sam. I’m sorry for insulting your nerdy little book. Go back to reading.”

Reluctantly, Sam turns back to _A Winter’s Tale_. Dean sighs, plopping down on the bed and beginning to polish his pistol.

They don’t see Dad until the following morning. “No more campers going missing anytime soon.” He says as they pack up the car. They head off to another town, another motel, another bed. Late at night, when Dad is gone, Sam speaks.

“Dean?”

“What?”

“I finished my book.”

“Whoop-dee-doo.” Dean responds sarcastically.

“The mom dies in the end. So they make a statue of her. Can we make a statue of Mom?”

Dean doesn’t respond. Pretends he’s asleep.

It’d be nice for Mom to have a statue.

Maybe someday, she will.


End file.
